


faces sunward

by bellmare



Category: Gatchaman Crowds
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellmare/pseuds/bellmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How envious she is. How envious she is of this girl with so much lustre, with so much life in her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	faces sunward

She doesn't like proximity; the close contact between skin and skin.

Or rather -- it's not that she dislikes it. She's grown accustomed to living without it; after all, what choice does she have, when she can't even fully control her own powers. 

The first time Hajime Ichinose reaches out to her, Utsutsu hesitates. "Where did you get your swimsuit?" Hajime asks, her voice carrying across the space between them. She skitters forwards excitedly and Utsutsu takes a step back, lifting her arms out of reach.

She doesn't want to hurt anyone.

Hajime gazes curiously at her for a beat, then hugs her instead. "Wow, you're so cute!" she exclaims, smiling into Utsutsu's hair.

Utsutsu stares down at her feet. She doesn't know how to respond. "I feel gloomy," she says quietly.

How envious she is. How envious she is of this girl with so much lustre, with so much life in her.

.

She's heard about Hajime letting the MESS go.

It's unprecedented; she's been thinking about it the whole day long. Utsutsu's never really understood others, let alone the people of this world. She wonders what Hajime does during her free time.

"U-tsu-tsu!" Hajime trills, and wraps her arms around Utsutsu. She's at a loss as to how to respond, again; she's never had to deal with this, never had to deal with someone persistently seeking out her company. "I feel gloomy," she murmurs.

Hajime tilts her head, preoccupied by O.D's GALAX avatar. "Ooh, you're on GALAX too?" she asks excitedly. Utsutsu shuffles, awkwardly; Hajime's cheek is still pressed against her waist. "O.D.," she says warningly.

Utsutsu listens as Hajime chatters; she's got a phone, she thinks, and a working data connection. Maybe she should try using GALAX more. She's seen Hajime's avatar, has seen her interacting with other users. It seems pleasant; she thinks about joining in. Maybe it'll be nice; maybe it'll stop O.D. from worrying about her too much.

"--it's like I haven't really met them," Hajime's saying. Something clenches in the pit of Utsutsu's stomach. 

She thinks about Hajime meeting her -- meeting a transient girl, her consciousness scattered like a dandelion clock in the breeze. It terrifies her.

.

Hajime's good with her hands; she's always making things, pleating and trimming edges and forming neat, sharp creases.

"Oh! Are you interested?" Hajime asks when she catches Utsutsu staring at her when she's folding paper. Utsutsu flushes and averts her eyes. She's never seen anything like that before, the way someone can form the delicate whorling petals of a rose from a flat sheet of paper.

"Here, I'll give this to you!" Hajime says, fingers brushing against her wrist. Utsutsu flinches at her touch; when she tries to move away, Hajime tucks a piece of paper into her hand.

"I feel gloomy," Utsutsu says. The paper rustles in her fingertips. She's noticed that Hajime takes care not to touch her hands.

.

When she starts logging into GALAX more, she notices Hajime leaving her gifts.

Little flowers, ribbons and bows and accessories; small tokens that she puts up in her base and arranges carefully, virtual decorations to admire when she can't sleep at night, when her room's illuminated by the pixellated blue glow of her phone screen. 

Hajime gives her balloons; they spell out a message.

_I want to really meet you!_

She still doesn't understand.

.

O.D. holds out the crinkled origami paper from Hajime. "She's fun, isn't she?" 

When she doesn't reply, O.D. takes her hand, gently folding her fingers over the sheet. "You should make friends with her."

She doesn't say anything. O.D. smiles fondly at her, and pats her shoulder.

.

She's decided. She'll learn to make flowers; she'll learn to fold paper roses.

.

"Are you always this quiet, Utsutsu?" Hajime asks one evening. "It's like you're here, but not really."

She knows, Utsutsu thinks. The knot in her throat tightens. "This body is a copy," she says. "I can make any number of copies."

From what she's come to understand from humans, they are fearful. They fear anything that defies their logic; anything that doesn't comply with the laws of their world.

"Wow!" Hajime exclaims, eyes rounding with surprise. "That's really cool! I wish I could, too."

"You don't. You can't," Utsutsu says flatly. "It's because my body is weird." 

"And you don't like it?" Hajime prompts. 

"I don't. I can't touch anyone, because I'll hurt them. That's the kind of life form I am."

A car passes by them; its headlights glance across the plexiglass of the bus stop.

"If I'm happy, I'll soon want to cry ... or disappear, or ..."

"Or hurt someone?"

Utsutsu stares down at her lap, at the shrivelled petals of a dead flower scattered on her skirt. "Aren't I frightening?"

"You're fine just the way you are, Utsutsu," Hajime says. She has a smile like the sun, warm and radiant. "That's what I think. I mean, you're so cute! I'm happy, no matter what. I don't want to vanish. It's all okay!"

There's something rising up her chest, up the back of her throat; something hot, and bitter, something that hurts and burns. "Liar," Utsutsu says. Humans lie, don't they; they always do.

"I want to talk to the real Utsutsu, someday!" Hajime calls after her. 

.

She doesn't want to be transient any more. She doesn't want to be a copy. She doesn't want to not be able to differentiate between which one is the real her; which one is genuine, which is the duplicate.

Maybe there never was a real one, to begin with. Maybe there never was a true Utsutsu; maybe she was always just a clone of something else, someone else.

"That's the thing with having special powers like us," O.D. says. "It's something to be glad about, but it's sad, as well."

.

The first thing she tries to make is a frog. It comes out lopsided, its creases squashed and uneven. 

Utsutsu smiles at her creation; for once, she doesn't destroy. 

It feels so nice; nicer, still, is seeing Hajime grinning broadly at her from across the aisle.

So bright, so alive, so vital. Just like the sun.

.

She doesn't want to be a copy. She doesn't want to be multitude, seeing and hearing everything, sharing thoughts that overwhelm her senses.

She wants to save people. She wants to shine, just like Hajime does.

.

It's a week after the tunnel cave-in. There are too many reporters, too many flashing cameras and clamouring voices. It gives her a headache.

Hajime glances at her, sidelong. They're crouched under a table, watching moving shadows through the drape of the tablecloth. "Do you want to come with me?" Hajime whispers, and offers Utsutsu her hand.

Utsutsu stares down at Hajime's hand -- palm-up, fingers curled slightly inwards. She has skinny wrists, just like Utsutsu does.

An invitation. Utsutsu places her hand, hesitantly, in Hajime's. Hajime's smile could illumiinate a room.

Her fingers fold around Utsutsu's. It's been a long time since Utsutsu's held anyone's hand, since she's felt the warmth of someone's palm in hers. 

"Ready?" Hajime asks. Utsutsu nods.

She'll follow Hajime wherever she takes her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry but. I'll write other stuff next time, I swear. 
> 
> I'm not always yelling loudly about these two, and when I don't -- I will write the others.


End file.
